If I Go Crazy
by Scaredbeingsinthedark
Summary: Something has happened to Ryan and it has a severe and lasting impact on everyone around him. Warnings inside. Now Rated M.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing regarding CSI: Miami. I also do not own the song One by One as performed by Unkle Bob—or any other person. The title of the story comes from Kryptonite by Three Doors Down, which I also do not own.**_

_**I realize that the characters are grossly out of character, I apologize if I offend anyone, but I feel, in this story, they are dealing with an out of character situation for the established show.**_

_**The warnings on this story are an M rating, mentions of rape, suicidal thoughts/actions, and eventual character death. If you are easily disturbed, please don't read this story. This is your only warning.**_

_**Additionally, if the situation calls for it, there is strong language. I think it makes it a little worse than a PG-13 movie rating, so teen? I have read far worse stories, language and content-wise, aimed at young teens. I apologize if the rating fails to encompass what it needs to. Let me know in the comments or a private message and I'll adapt the rating.**_

_One by One_

_I suffer you gladly_

_One by one_

_You're all I don't need_

_And you couldn't see_

_The wood from the tree_

_Your eyes are unkind_

_So don't look at me_

_And all that you know_

_Is written in stone_

**Prologue:**

**Thursday December 16, 2010**

Ryan Wolfe's drink is cloudy and he watches the swirls for a couple seconds before raising the glass and tipping the contents into his mouth. It's a mix of everything he can think of and it tastes awful, but he still orders another shot, grimacing through the burn of the alcohol. The bartender keeps giving him looks as if to say, "That's enough, sonny," but a man at the end of the bar keeps buying and Ryan keeps drinking.

The last case for the Crime Lab was horrific, with a mother-father team murdering their seven children before going on a spree, killing as many of their relatives as possible. Before Horatio shot them, they had kidnapped Ryan because he looked like a long-lost cousin. He had come so close to dying. Ryan didn't handle near death experiences very well.

Around the thirteenth or fourteenth or seventeenth drink, the room starts spinning, and Ryan can't see straight. The man has moved closer and has his arm around Ryan's shoulders. The last thing he remembers is trying to thank the man for paying for his drinks when he passes out.

oOo

Ryan curls against the pain. He would welcome it if it meant that he will be saved from this nightmare. He's been missing for three hours now, but since he was abducted after work hours, no one knows yet.

The man has made sure that Ryan can't see his face or any other identifying features, but he knows it's the same one from the bar. Once he makes sure that Ryan can't escape from the leather restraints tied around his wrists, he rapes him repeatedly. The haze from the alcohol stops the familiarity of the room, of the bed, from registering in Ryan's scared mind.

He passes out and awakens periodically throughout the night as the man cleans him up, wraps him in a recently purchased blanket, and throws him onto the streets. The alcohol has worn off enough that the recognition of the street isn't lost on him.

Ryan cries when he realizes that he was raped in his own house.

oOo

He stumbles into the hospital, babbling incoherently about calling his boss and needing a doctor. The nurses understand more of what he says than he does, and he ends up in an examination room waiting for someone to run a rape kit.

He holds onto a thin line of hope that the man left some evidence on him somewhere—even _down there _—that the doctor can use to nail the bastard. He knows there is little possibility since one of the times he woke up, the man was flooding_ down there_ with soapy water.

The first time a male doctor enters the room, he goes into shock, traveling back in time and space to his bedroom, tied to the four-poster bed his mother gave him when he got his first apartment. Back to the bathtub, water forced in and out of him, reminiscent of the penis he'd had shoved into him. Back to the cold street and the realization that his neighbors hadn't heard anything.

The doctor leaves, and someone new comes in. Ryan isn't aware of the actual rape kit, but he does know that when he nods his consent for the woman to examine him, he doesn't stop even as he descends back into shock.

oOo

**Friday December 17, 2010**

Eric Delko is the first to notice that he's not okay when he walks into work. The doctors had advised against him returning so soon, but he needs to talk to his boss, Lieutenant Horatio Caine about what has happened to him. How can he tell anyone that he's been raped—much less that it happened in his home where he was supposed to be safe?

Horatio refuses to meet with him privately, even after Ryan tries to explain the sensitive nature of the topic. Well, as best as the words "It's, uh, it's really a, um, a, uh, private matter. If you don't mind?" can.

Miraculously—Eric—the hallway empties shortly after that, and Ryan mumbles what he needs to say. Horatio looks heartbroken as he leads him to an interrogation room to talk. But, like the doctors, and like Ryan knew all along, there is no evidence to go off of. There is no way they can catch his rapist.

"Take a few days off," Horatio says kindly, the sadness still lingering in his eyes. "Recuperate. We'll see you in a week."

Ryan nods. He's still nodding when Horatio walks away from him. And then he breaks down.

oOo

**Saturday December 25, 2010**

He spends the day alone, curled on his couch, trying not to miss the comfort of a friendly smile. Trying not to feel the pain of the man raping him again and again. The walls close in on him and he can't breathe.

He's got to get out of here.

His phone rings and it's Eric inviting him over for Christmas dinner with his family. Ryan hesitates only long enough to pull a dress shirt and pants over his tee-shirt and jeans and tie his shoes.

Before Eric can change his mind or hang up, Ryan is on his way, crying silently as Eric continues describing how much fun it's going to be.

oOo

**Friday December 31, 2010**

Once again, Eric invites him to hang out with him. Somehow, he knows that Ryan needs to be near someone, but he doesn't press for information, which is a relief since Ryan doesn't know how to tell anyone—except Horatio—about what happened to him.

Instead of interrogating him about moving, Eric helped him find an apartment closer to the Crime Lab, closer to Eric, and actually threw a housewarming party for him.

New Year's Eve, Eric hands him a glass of apple juice. "Sorry it's not champagne," he apologizes. "My sister is pregnant and we didn't want her to feel left out."

"That's okay," Ryan says. It's been two weeks, but he still can't bring himself to do anything that might impair his judgment, might lead him back to his old apartment, back to the pain the man inflicted on him. Alcohol was the first thing to go. He has vowed to never let another drop pass his lips, so he's perfectly okay chanting numbers with Eric's enormous extended family and sipping sweet apple juice when the ball drops. He doesn't know why they've accepted him, and he doesn't need to. He is perfectly happy discussing politics with Papí and talking to Mamá about recipes.

He hopes it doesn't ever stop, but he can feel himself changing even as Eric's little cousin kisses him on the cheek and wishes him a Happy New Year. He can feel himself slipping into the depression he's tried so hard to fight off.

oOo

**Friday March 18, 2011**

Ryan has finally had enough. He can't stand to be himself for one more moment and lashes out at the nearest object. It just so happens that it's the door to the DNA lab. His fist punches through, shards sticking into his skin. Inside, Natalia Boa Vista and a newbie tech scream in fear or surprise.

He waves them away, heading towards the centrifuge which is currently unoccupied. Natalia tries to stop him, but he refuses to listen to her. One of the table legs ought to do nicely, he thinks, shoving the newbie out of the way as he upends their worktable, ripping a metal leg off. Natalia screams at him as he smashes the centrifuge again and again. When he shows no signs of stopping, she takes Newbie and leaves.

The rest of the lab erupts into shouts and cries as he makes his way across the hall to the trace lab where Travers is bent over a microscope. Ryan smashes the one farthest from the lab tech first.

"My god!" Travers stares at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He ignores him, smacking the table leg into another microscope and pivoting to smash the printer on the table behind him. Natalia opens the door and calls for Travers. Ryan ignores her too, carefully removing the slide Travers had been looking at and setting it back in its bag. Then he smashes that microscope too.

His rage increases, and he begins punching everything in sight, crying out in frustration and pain as his hands bleed on the things he touches. The broken printer is lobbed through one of the walls, coming to a rest against the metal frame of the DNA lab. Infuriated, Ryan runs through the space, slamming through the unbroken wall on the other side of the lab.

He does not notice everyone running around him, running from him. He has only one goal in mind: to destroy the machines that cannot help him.

oOo


	2. Chapter One

_**For disclaimer, see Prologue**_

oOo

**Chapter One:**

**Friday March 18, 2011**

At first, Eric can't see why there are lab technicians running around outside the Crime Lab. All of them have terrified expressions stuck on their faces that would be comical, but he sees the same expressions mirrored on the CSIs' faces. Even Horatio looks rattled.

"What's going on?" He stands next to his boss, staring up at the building, watching as cops rush more and more people from it. It looks like a bomb scene, minus the bomb and carnage.

Horatio turns to stare at him, and Eric notices a thin scrape on his cheek. "Mr. Wolfe isn't behaving like himself."

Eric is about to ask what he means when a chair from an interrogation room flies through one of the windows and lands ten feet from where he and Horatio are standing. Through the broken window, Eric catches sight of his colleague, Ryan Wolfe, standing and staring out at the people looking back at him. Blood runs from his hands—possibly from punching glass and other hard objects—and blood is smeared all over his face like war paint.

He points at Eric before running farther into the lab. No one makes a move towards the building, but Eric notices several cops' safeties being clicked off. They're going to take Ryan down even if it kills him.

"Let me try talking to him," Eric barely waits for Horatio's disapproving nod before heading into the Crime Lab despite the protests of the others. If he can talk Ryan into surrendering, he will take the chance of being thrown through a window like a common chair.

The first steps into the lab bring a gasp of surprise from him as he witnesses just how destructive Ryan has already been. Several walls have been smashed, as has the equipment inside. Blood streaks the edges, and Eric imagines Ryan slamming his fists through the glass. Not for the first time, he wishes the lab wasn't made of glass.

He makes his way through the empty halls, expecting every step to bring him into direct confrontation with Ryan. Nothing happens the deeper he walks into the lab except the extent of damage decreases significantly. The DNA lab and the trace lab are completely destroyed, but the ballistics lab is untouched except for a kicked-in door.

Where is Ryan?

He finds him curled into a corner of the morgue, one of Calleigh's guns in his mouth, crying as he tries and fails to pull the trigger. Eric runs to his side, tears the gun from between his lips, and wraps him in a tight hug. Ryan clutches him as best as his shredded hands can, sobbing like his world has exploded and the only stable, familiar thing is Eric.

"Good work, Eric." Somehow Horatio has appeared in the morgue, and Eric realizes that he was followed. Whether it was for his own protection or to get to Ryan faster, Eric does not know, but he refuses to let Horatio take Ryan from him. But, as soon as he notices the lieutenant, Ryan pushes away from him, trying to wipe away the tears making tracks in the blood on his face and smearing more blood instead.

"I don't know what's going on," Eric begins, but Horatio quiets him. Several officers train their weapons on Ryan as he walks towards Horatio, hands raised in surrender.

Eric thinks Ryan whispers "Help me," before Horatio leads him away. What's happening? Why did Ryan have a meltdown?

By the time he makes it back out into the daylight, Ryan is sitting in the back of an ambulance. He is not calm—his body is shaking and he is crying again. Eric wants to get closer, but Calleigh Duquesne and Natalia Boa Vista hold him back.

For some reason, and Eric feels he should know why, only Ryan was injured in his rampage. Horatio's scratch is significantly less damage than the cuts on Ryan's hands, and no one else appears to have any injuries. Only Ryan's blood coats the Crime Lab and stains his shirt.

Horatio climbs into the ambulance, holding a screaming Ryan still while the paramedics inject him with a sedative. There is no doubt in Eric's mind that if and when Ryan can have visitors, he'll be in a mental institute.

He turns to the others and is disappointed by the relief he sees in their eyes as the ambulance pulls away.

oOo

**Thursday April 7 and Friday April 8, 2011**

It takes a couple of weeks for Horatio to entrust Ryan's location to them. Eric has read the file and knows that Horatio didn't tell them for twenty days. He waited three days because Ryan was in an evaluation clinic after being discharged from the hospital. The other seventeen days were needed because Ryan was given time to cope with being hospitalized. As soon as Horatio tells them he is ready for visitors, Eric schedules a day off. The others appear sad that Ryan needs to be hospitalized, but otherwise they don't show any emotion regarding a member of the team. Even Walter Simmons, possibly Ryan's best friend next to Eric, doesn't express a desire to visit him. Again, Eric feels disappointed by their reactions.

Horatio agrees to let him take tomorrow off since cases are slow and the new equipment needs to be programmed and calibrated. No one protests that he's the first one.

The hospital where Ryan is being kept is not too far away. It'll take an hour with good traffic to get there and get his visitor's pass. He calls the facility and asks for Ryan to let him know he's stopping by, and is pleasantly surprised to find that Ryan sounds the same, if a little sullen. He cheers up considerably when Eric mentions his pending visit.

"Don't be late. They don't like it if you're late," he whispers, and Eric can see him hunched over the phone, trying to keep people from listening in on his conversation. "And don't bring anything like food. They'll confiscate it."

When he hangs up, after three minutes of trying to find something encouraging to say, he feels emptier than he wants to admit. He can't deny that Ryan has worked hard and succeeded at being his friend. Or that Ryan's breakdown is affecting him badly.

The brief conversation is still bothering him when he pulls into the parking lot of Highland Park Pavilion Jackson mental health facility the next day. Five minutes later he has a visitor pass and is waiting patiently in the designated visiting room. A few moments later Ryan shuffles in, flanked by two attendants. He smiles at Eric but makes no move to shake his hand or embrace him or anything.

His hands are still wrapped in bandages, and his clothes resemble the scrubs the attendants are wearing, but the smile is Ryan's and his eyes sparkle the way they did when he was following evidence.

Eric stands awkwardly while the attendants push Ryan into a chair and warn him about what will happen if he misbehaves.

"Like at the Crime Lab," Ryan winks at him.

"I've been meaning to ask, what happened?"

Ryan stares at him. Blinks once, twice. And launches himself across the small table, wrapping his hands around Eric's neck. He doesn't get a good grip because the attendants yank him off quickly, but it's enough to scare Eric.

"You're just like the rest of them!" Ryan screams as he is dragged away. He twists violently, keeping the attendants' grip loose and Eric's heart rate up. "You're one of them! Go back and leave me alone! I hope you die!"

And then he is gone, and a doctor, materialized from somewhere behind a hidden door, helps Eric to his feet.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Delko," she says. "He has not taken to his medication well. We thought his reaction would be limited to a few of the staff and Lieutenant Caine, but…I hope you won't mind if we ask you to not visit for a while."

"The hell I won't," Eric glares at her. "You wanna know something?" Eric jerks his thumb in the direction Ryan was dragged. "That guy is one of my friends. I'm not going to abandon him just because he's not himself."

"I was told you were the one who stopped him from committing suicide."

"What kind of a person would I be if I hadn't?" Eric walks away from her. "I'll be back next week."

"No," she stops him by yanking the visitor's badge from his front pocket. "He can only have one visitor per week, and your boss set up a schedule. Your next visit is in three weeks."

"I'm going to kick someone's ass," Eric mutters to himself as he exits the building and climbs into his car. He shakes his head, thinking of what Ryan yelled at him. He is going to do everything in his power to make sure Ryan knows he's not "one of them."

oOo

**Wednesday April 20, 2011**

Calleigh Duquesne doesn't know what to think. She had been living her life perfectly accented with her friends, and then one of them went on a rampage. He is safely locked up, but that doesn't stop her heart from aching at the damage he did. Natalia's lab is almost entirely destroyed, as is Travers's. The windows have only just been replaced, but she isn't happy with Horatio's choice to reinstall the same windows that allowed Ryan to run on his rampage.

No one is, but he explains it as a reminder, a testament, to Ryan.

Horatio confronted her earlier today, and told her to go visit Ryan. The address, scribbled on a scrap piece of paper burned her palm, knowledge she wasn't ready to be entrusted with, responsibility she was unwilling to accept.

Now, she waits at the front desk, the attendant, a young woman with a pretty smile, filling out the necessary information for her visitor's badge. Once the plastic tag is hung on her lapel, Calleigh is led to a small room just a few doors off the main hub. Ryan is already waiting, sitting at a table, handcuffs keeping him chained to his chair.

She sits down and swallows hard—Eric's story, reluctantly pulled from him by a curious Nat, runs through her head. What if Ryan attacks her, too?

"Hi," she whispers, trying to ignore the way the attendant behind Ryan grips his shoulder, pressing him further into the chair.

"Hi, yourself. Come to rescue me?" He smiles then, something even more frightening to her. "Just joking. They won't let me go. Not 'til they're done with me." He turns to stare at the man holding him. Reflected in the glass behind the attendant, Calleigh can see the anger and hate on his face. She stands up.

"I'm sorry to run out on you, but it's been busy at the lab, and I really need to get back."

His head snaps around, and he pins her with a sharp glance. "I see," he says as he nods stiffly.

"Really," she tries again, backing around the table and towards the exit. "Believe me, crime never stops."

"I believe you," he says, eyes following her. "You won't believe me." He straightens, handcuffs rattling faintly as he shuffles half a step away from the table. "Someone needs to get me out of here. It's…I'm not safe." She winces with him as the attendant digs his fingers into the soft flesh of his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she says and leaves, the badge clacking against the counter as she slaps it down and keeps walking.

She waits until she's back in the parking lot of the Crime Lab before she breaks down.

oOo


	3. Chapter Two

_**Disclaimer is on the Prologue.**_

oOo

**Chapter Two:**

**Friday May 6, 2011**

The next visit, when Ryan is led in, Eric tries to hide his shock. Ryan has changed so much from his first month of what Eric has come to call his "incarceration."

Scabs cover his face, running down from his eyes and covering his nose. It looks as if someone raked his fingernails over his face. Maybe, Eric thinks, it was Ryan himself. A blood-tinged bandage is wrapped around his neck. His weight, questionable the last few months at the Crime Lab, has diminished even more, making his already prominent cheekbones jut out. His eyes are sunken in, and his hair—so many styles, so few years—has been buzzed short. Eric imagines he can see where they attached electrodes for electroshock therapy. And then there is the matter of the straightjacket wrapped around his shrinking frame and the restraints placed on him as soon as he's been pushed into the chair.

What the hell happened to him?

What is this place doing to him?

Eric wants his friend back.

Ryan glares at him as he evaluates him. He does not move and does not speak.

Eric tries to talk to him about some of the cases he's closed recently, but Ryan refuses to respond. After fifteen minutes of closely supervised silence, one of the attendants grabs Ryan's shoulder and releases the restraints to take him back to his room.

"It's not EST," Ryan says as he's led away, leaving Eric to wonder how he knew what he was thinking.

oOo

**Friday May 20, 2011**

Walter Simmons had traded days to avoid going to visit. Natalia was willing to take all the times Horatio forced him to drive to the hospital. He'd tried trading with Eric or Tripp, the only other two who seemed inclined to visit without being forced, but Eric had told on him, and Horatio had personally escorted him to the facility.

Standing at the desk, waiting for Paula to finish with the form, he focuses on the badge, a white plastic tag with a large blue 'V' on it. His fingers tremble when he accepts it from her. Calleigh had said Wolfe wasn't himself, and Natalia said he was clawed and buzzed and hiding from what was changing.

Delko wouldn't talk about his visits.

"Any advice you can give me?"

Paula narrows her eyes at him, pursing her lips. "He's not bad, it's just this place." She laughs nervously, and Walter raises an eyebrow.

"You must observe him sometimes, right?"

"He mostly stays in his room. Higher security risks tend to do that. Oh, here he comes." She smiles again, pointing at a shuffling Wolfe being led by two mean looking fellas.

A little worried about the 'higher security risk' addendum to his friend, Walter follows them into the room, watching as they lock Wolfe's shoulders against the back of a metal chair. He is a little surprised, and grateful, that they leave the straightjacket on. Both men step back and let Walter sit at the table.

"So, a little thinner, eh, Wolfe?"

It's not much of an opener, but it's the least obvious thing Walter can think of to say about him. It's not like he can mention the scratches—which Natalia is totally right, they do look self-inflicted—or the restraints. Wolfe ignores his comment and starts rocking back and forth, humming softly.

"Hey," he says suddenly, jerking forward—Walter flinches back—rattling the chain. "D'you think you could bring me a tape player or something next time?"

"Yeah, sure," Walter agrees quickly, looking up to check the attendant's face. At the dark look he receives, he grimaces, "I mean, if it's not against the rules."

"It shouldn't be," Wolfe settles again, throwing a glare at the bigger of the two men. "But, I guess, once they've labeled you, they can impose whatever rules they want on you."

"Don't do that, man," Walter groans, noticing the hardening expressions on Wolfe's keepers. "Seriously, that's why they're mad at you."

"Seriously, they're mad at me for something else." Wolfe flinches when a hand drops onto his shoulder.

"I think our time is up," Walter says, relieved and trying to hide it under a mask of sadness. Wolfe glares at him, leaning back so his restraints can be removed.

"If all you're gonna do is berate me, don't bother visiting, friend," Wolfe spits as he's swept out the door. Walter waits a few moments before standing up.

His stomach doesn't feel well, and he hurries out to the car, barely remembering to give back the visitor's badge, so he can throw up before being driven back to work.

oOo

**Friday June 3, 2011**

"I'm James," a beefy man with thick forearms and tiny eyes sunken into a clean shaven face shakes Eric's hand with so much gusto that he almost sprains his wrist. "I'm Ryan's primary caregiver."

Eric glares at him. "You're not doing a good job." He means the scratches and wounds he sees on Ryan's exposed flesh, the extreme weight loss. James glares back at him.

"He doesn't make it easy." A sudden glint in James's eye causes Eric's stomach to lurch. Something bad is happening to Ryan in these walls, and James is a participator. "I'll get him ready now," James leaves him in the renovated waiting room. There is a plexi-glass wall cutting the table in half and stretching across the entire width of the room, save for a wood door mounted on the far side.

The room feels even more prison-like now.

Ryan is led in, still packaged in the straightjacket. He smiles weakly at Eric as he passes, pushed towards the door and into the small room. He sits and is strapped to the chair. James stays standing over him.

Some of the scabs have started healing, but new ones stretch across his chin and mouth. Briefly Eric wonders if it's from a reaction to the drugs he has to take.

"Hey," he says. "What's new?"

"The glass," Ryan smirks, and Eric sees a little of the old Ryan shining through. He smiles too, hoping it lasts. Of course it doesn't. Ryan glances back at James and Eric sees the fear grow on his face. Now he knows he needs to get Ryan out of here.

"Can you bring a burger next time?" Ryan's new smile shakes, and some of the scabs crack and blood oozes down his face.

"Ryan…" James leaves the word hanging in the growing silence. Rage wells in Eric's chest. How dare this man make his friend scared?

"I'll try," he promises.

"That's it for today," James yanks on the restraints. He tugs Ryan to his feet and leads him back through the door. Before he can be whisked away, Eric runs to him, wraps him in a hug and pecks his cheek.

"That's from Ani," he whispers. Ryan nods, tears forming in his eyes. The little cousin who kissed his cheek at New Year's. "And me," He wants to say, and "Hang on, I'll get you out," but James and the other attendant march Ryan away.

He leaves the building, dragging his feet and wishing he could do more.

oOo

**Monday June 20, 2011**

Natalia Boa Vista doesn't feel strange walking into the facility. At least, she doesn't think she does until she reaches the room where Ryan is usually waiting for her, and he is nowhere in sight.

She folds her hands and sits perfectly still, like the absent Wolfe is a wild animal that needs to be convinced she won't hurt him. Something that she admits is not too far from the truth.

Five minutes later, she is still sitting, but now she has begun fiddling with the visitor's badge and the edge of the table. Her patience is running out. Paula, at the front desk, was expecting her, why wasn't Ryan's primary caregiver, that ugly bastard James?

Suddenly, Paula pokes her head into the room, a smile plastered over another, more troubling, expression.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice wavering just a little as she motions for Natalia to stand up. "Ryan isn't up to visitors today. You'll have to wait your turn again."

"Why wasn't I told when I checked in? Did it come up right now?"

"I'm sure Ryan will answer all your questions the next time he sees you. But, right now, I need you to leave." She guides Natalia out a back way, some small side door hidden behind an enormous potted plant. "You take care now."

Natalia stands in shock long after the door clicks closed behind her, waiting for someone—Ryan—to jump from behind the hydrangea bushes and tell her there's been a mistake. But, no, after several minutes, she stays alone. Curious, and cautious, she walks the perimeter of the building, peeking in windows quickly, trying to locate her missing friend.

She is stared at and waved at by a variety of people, young and old, and still manages to avoid drawing the attention of the attendants. And, on the last window, she finally sees Ryan. He is curled on a bed, staring out the window—barred from the outside. He looks through her, and her heart clenches when she notices he's crying.

Eric's right, there is something wrong with the facility. They need to come up with a plan of attack to get him out of here.

A hand clamping on her shoulder scares her enough to shriek.

"What are you doing here?" James growls as he spins her to face him. "This area is off limits to everyone but authorized personnel."

"I'm just leaving. I wanted to see if I could find Ryan's room, so I could give him the message that I did visit, but he didn't see me. Could you tell him he's not alone, and that we care greatly for him?" She doesn't believe James will deliver her message, but it's worth a shot to divert his attention from her, especially as Ryan has dragged himself off his bed and to the doorway where Paula and a nurse are waiting for him.

"I need to get back to work," Natalia pulls away from James, walking purposefully to the parking lot and climbing into her Hummer. "Tell him what I said, and that I'll visit again soon."

James doesn't respond, just watches her reverse and pull out.

Creepy.

She can't wait to talk with Eric, even if he never gives her any details of his visits with Ryan. They really need to get him out of there.

oOo

**Friday July 1, 2011**

"I'm sorry." the words surprise Eric, especially because Ryan has avoided looking at him the entire visit. Suddenly he lifts his head, staring into Eric's eyes with an intensity that scares him.

"What for?"

"For telling you 'I hope you die.'" Ryan traces a circle on the arm of the chair. The straightjacket has been dispensed with, and Eric is glad. No straightjacket means Ryan is making progress, right? Means he can come hang out and make Mamá happy by telling her everything she cooks tastes good. "I really am sorry. I hope you live forever."

"What if I don't want to live forever?" Eric jokes. The glass bothers him. It stops him from reaching out and touching his friend, from making sure he's really starting to heal. The hamburger he'd promised Ryan is sitting in a bag on his side of the table.

The attendant who stands behind him, presumably to whisk him away if Ryan should somehow break his restraints and attack him again, sniffs deeply, licking his lips with an odd smacking sound.

"Tell me about what you do," Eric encourages Ryan.

"What do I do?" Ryan glances back at James. "Mostly, I stay in my room." He bites his lip suddenly as if there is something else he wants to say, but Eric lets it go. "I have group and individual therapy twice a week."

The scratches covering his face are healing, but Eric notices Ryan has taken to chewing on his fingernails. Despite bloody crescents, he counts at least three times in a minute that Ryan attempts to bite more off.

"I don't want to be here anymore." He sounds scared or hurt or both. Behind him, James tenses. Eric raises a hand to stop the attendant.

"I'll talk to your doctor and Horatio about getting you out," he promises as he stands up. James undoes the restraints and pulls Ryan to his feet. They shuffle out again, and as they pass the table, Ryan grabs the hamburger. James grunts in disapproval but lets him hold onto it.

Eric waits for the other attendant to follow before he goes looking for Ryan's doctor. He finds her waiting for him at the front desk, the hamburger in hand. He _smells_ the disappointment stemming from her.

He grins sheepishly as she confronts him with the sandwich. "I believe you were told not to give him any outside food."

"I'm concerned that he's not eating," he retaliates, satisfied when he sees a shadow of guilt cross her face. "He asked me to bring one in, and I honored his request simply because I thought he would eat it."

"His medication diminishes his appetite."

"And something else is too." Eric waves her to the chairs lined up beneath a barred window. Although this is the waiting room for potential patients and their loved ones, it's as sterile and uninviting as the rest of the building. "I think he has an adverse reaction to James."

"Nonsense, James is our best attendant. The patients don't listen to any of the others as well."

"Just the same," Eric draws in a deep breath to keep from biting her head off—why can't she see what's happening to Ryan? "I'd like you to keep an eye on them, make sure James isn't doing anything he isn't supposed to."

She dismisses him, like waving away an annoying insect. Well, Eric thinks, she'll soon find out he's an annoying grizzly bear ready to defend his…what is Ryan's relationship to him? He knows that he needs to discover what it means to be Ryan's friend before he can effectively rescue Ryan without the facility keeping its claws in him.

It hurts him so much, but Eric leaves the doctor still sitting on the chairs with the cold hamburger.

oOo

**Wednesday July 20, 2011**

Calleigh waits in front of her locker. Horatio stands behind her, his disapproving glare burning holes in the wall beside her head.

"I really wish I could, but, Horatio, don't make me. Please."

He shifts, she hears the material of his jacket scraping against the lockers he's leaning on. He sighs, clicking the bows of his sunglasses together.

"Fine," he says sharply, voice hard. "I'll give your visit to someone else. But, know this, he still looks up to you. He needs you."

"Don't try and guilt me," she says, turns to face him. "I went through this with my father. I can't do it for him." Tears well up and she wipes at them harshly. "I can't be strong for him. I can't…I just can't."

Horatio opens his arms and leans over the bench in the center of the aisle. Calleigh meets him halfway, sniffling into his shirt and trying to stop. "I understand," he whispers, stroking her hair. "Mostly."

"Eric or Natalia," she says, arms wrapped around his waist, tears still falling. "They both can visit."

"I know." He lets her go, steps back.

"I'm sorry." She turns back to her locker, her holster and gun on the top shelf, her purse on a hook below it. She grabs it, does not turn back to him.

"I'm not the one you have to tell."

oOo


	4. Chapter Three

_**Disclaimer is on the Prologue.**_

oOo

**Chapter Three:**

**Friday July 29, 2011**

Eric sits down across the table from Ryan. Neither one speaks for a long moment. Slowly, Ryan raises his hand to the glass separating them. Eric almost laughs at the sight of black polish on the too-short nails, but a look at Ryan's quivering lip stops him. Ryan is overly sensitive right now, a side effect of his new medication, Eric's been told.

"Hey," he begins, stopping when he can't keep his voice from cracking. "Hey."

Ryan uses the hand against the glass to brush his growing hair so that it stands straight up. "Hey, yourself," he whispers, leaning forward like he's telling Eric a secret. A finger finds its way to his mouth and he grimaces as the polish releases a bitter taste on his tongue.

"How are you doing?" Eric glances around, making sure the attendants monitoring them are not close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Better," Ryan smiles, running his hand through his hair again. "I'm not restrained this time."

Eric nods, placing his palm against the glass where Ryan had had his. "Anything else I should know?"

"No," Ryan thinks for a minute, sticking his finger back in his mouth and spitting it out again. "No."

"You sure?" Eric does not want to leave Ryan there, especially if he needs to talk to someone on the outside.

"I take my medicine," Ryan tries to assure him. Eric wants to believe him, but Ryan spent his first three months causing trouble for the staff. The underground talk around the lab is Ryan and his straightjacket. Stories of how Ryan had been so violent towards everyone who had visited him are the most repeated. Also is the rumor—partially true—that Eric is the only one who seems to have any luck with Ryan—and even that was limited at first because he couldn't stand seeing his friend with self-inflicted scratches. Gossip, especially involving a person they all interacted with, makes Eric mad at his colleagues. Natalia is the only one he even talks to outside of work anymore.

"Really?" He is going to say more, but a hand drops onto his shoulder. The attendant this side of the glass's way of telling him time is up. "I guess I'll see you next month."

"Wait," Ryan calls. "They're going to let one person visit twice a month. Horatio asked if it could be him, but I want you." Eric is happy that he's Ryan's first choice.

It means so much to him that Ryan has decided to honor him with helping him take the first steps to get out of the facility.

oOo

**Friday August 12, 2011**

Something feels off the minute Eric steps foot into the facility. The air is charged with invisible particles of something so horrific he isn't sure he wants to know about it. The attendant at the front desk glares at him. It's not the usual girl who at least smiles sometimes; it's one of the attendants who usually supervise his visits.

"I'm here to see Ryan Wolfe," Eric knows this man knows exactly what he is doing, but he refuses to hand over the visitor's badge. They argue for a few minutes, but Eric knows he's not going to get in today. He worries about Ryan. How will he tell him?

If he can't see Ryan in the usual room, he'll just have to sneak in and visit him in his room. When the attendant isn't looking, Eric makes his way past the front desk, ducking into the first unlocked room he comes across.

It just so happens to be a bathroom. The urinals against the wall do little to soothe his racing heart. So what if it's a men's room? He's still somewhere he doesn't necessarily belong. And the man standing at the sinks will have his skin if he notices that Eric is watching him.

James sings as he uses a wad of paper towels to wipe off his penis. On the white material, the blood stands out. James is a rapist?

Of course! Ryan's reaction makes perfect sense now. James is using him. Before he quite knows what's going on, Eric shoves James against the wall, slamming his fist against the man's nose.

"You…" Eric can't think of an appropriate name vulgar enough to describe the piece of scum standing in front of him, so he settles for smacking James's smug face again. "You fucking asshole. You stay the hell away from him. I'm going to get him out." He lets go of James's shoulder, marching away.

A couple of patients milling around the open lobby across from the bathroom make noise as he stalks past them. The man at the front desk is already on the phone when Eric reaches him.

"Get me the withdrawal papers for Ryan Wolfe. He is not staying here. He can't stay here."

"Mr. Delko." The doctor, who presumably was called by the desk attendant, is not pleased. "The procedure for removing a patient is unable to be completed by anyone other than the patient. Ryan has expressed a want to stay within the safety of our walls."

"And my ass likes your chairs." He's about to say more. Something about how she doesn't know what's best for Ryan, and how James is taking advantage of Ryan, but a hand clamps onto his shoulder and a security guard steers him towards the exit.

Eric has the grace not to fall when he is shoved through the door into the hot parking lot, but he isn't above shouting profanities and threats at the staff. Still fuming, he whips out his cell phone, groaning in frustration when there is no signal.

He drives five blocks away before he finally has the ability to call Horatio to rant his concerns, but by then he isn't sure if calling his boss is the best thing to do. After all, Horatio is the one who picked this facility for Ryan. It's partially Horatio's fault if James is indeed raping Ryan.

When he focuses on the road again, he realizes that he's been heading to his parents' house. Papí and Mamá usually have good advice. Neither are home when he pulls into the driveway, but he has a key, so he lets himself in. He spends an hour pacing the front hallway, thinking of, and discarding, multiple plans for breaking Ryan out of the facility.

The only things each plan has in common are the components: getting Ryan out, needing at least three people to pull off, and failing. Half-assed success will not do. He's been trained too well, and Ryan deserves better, damn it!

He's at the end of his patience, about ready to storm the facility despite the lack of preparations when his parents walk in. They do not act surprised to see him, and he wonders again if they can read his mind.

"Siéntate, por favor," Eric says before he can be reprimanded by either of them, pulling out chairs from the dining room table and sitting down himself. "¿Qué debo hacer? What do I do?"

His parents share a glance. His mother sits down next to him and takes his hand. "Follow your heart and don't give up on him."

"Just vent," Papí pats Eric's shoulder. "We're listening."

So, Eric talks about everything. About how he can't rescue Ryan, about how he doesn't know if Ryan can survive, if too much has been taken. He dissolves into stony silence, staring at the grain of the table, tracing it with his eyes like Ryan did once before.

His phone, discarded on the table, rings, startling them all. Eric snatches it up, glaring at the caller ID before answering tersely.

"Do you know the damage you caused today?"

"Horatio, I need to tell you something-"

"Do you even care about him?"

"Horatio, listen to me-"

"Eric, I need to know what you were thinking."

"What do you mean, what was I thinking? Ryan is in danger and you're accusing me of hurting him?" Impassioned, Eric leaps to his feet.

"This is the best mental hospital in Miami. They came highly recommended."

"Just because you put him there doesn't mean it's the best place for him!" Eric paces, each step smacking against the hardwood floor with a bang. If only he could use this same energy to free Ryan.

"I want you to obey Doctor Rosen. She knows what's best for her patient. You can still call him, as long as you don't excite him."

"I…I'm sorry, Horatio. I can't follow your orders. Not where Ryan is concerned. You need to get him out of there."

Horatio hums and hangs up. Eric is left listening to the silence.

oOo

**Saturday August 13, 2011**

Horatio calls him the next afternoon to tell him that someone has been arrested on the suspicion that he has committed multiple rapes at previous mental hospitals. Eric can't help the hopeful tone when he asks if it's James.

"No, it's the other main attendant, Lewis."

Thin, wiry, pale skin, and bad B.O., Lewis wouldn't be Eric's first choice for a rapist. He knows the wrong man has been arrested, but he can't convince Horatio, and after a few moments of heated conversation, he hangs up in frustration.

His heart hurts when he thinks of the distance he feels growing between him and Ryan. How can he fix it now when all he does is make things worse?

oOo

**Saturday August 20, 2011**

Walter turns off the water, looks up into the mirror, and groans when he notices Delko staring at him.

"Look, man, he doesn't want me there," he says.

"That's not true," Delko counters. "He always looks forward to everyone's visits."

"_That's_ not true." Walter faces Delko, hands settling into fists pressed against his hips. "When I visit, Wolfe tells me how much he wishes it was you. Or even Natalia. He doesn't want the rest of us."

Delko shrugs, "Maybe it's how you look at him. I treat him as close to the same as I can without ignoring the changes he's going through."

"How can you look at him and not feel sickened by what he's become?"

"Hey," Delko moves so fast, Walter barely has time to back against the sink before he's in his face, "it is not his fault. Never say it is." He turns on his heel and marches away.

Walter stares after him. The crusade is old and tired, and maybe Wolfe's rampage in the lab has something to do with why he doesn't want to be associated with him anymore. It feels like something is wrong with him when he refuses to see his friend, but there is only so much crap a human being can take. Calleigh's already reached her limit.

He decides to find Horatio, let him know he's jumping off the bandwagon and walking in the other direction. If Horatio is as disappointed as Delko is, then Walter knows he's in the wrong place…again. He'll break his bridges with his limited compassion and hope for the best in the world that chewed up his friend and turned him into a monster.

Horatio, when Walter finds him on the roof, watching the Miami skyline, just sighs, says he understands, and tells Walter he's not wrong. It's the first clue that Delko and Natalia are as alone as they think they are, and he can't help but feel another stab of guilt when he thinks of how easy it was to renounce his belief in his team.

Just for that he goes to visit Wolfe one last time, to let him know he won't be coming again. He makes it halfway there before Horatio recalls him to help on a multiple homicide.

oOo


	5. Chapter Four

_**Disclaimer is on the Prologue.**_

oOo

**Chapter Four:**

**Friday August 26, 2011**

The cases Eric is on take all his time so this is the first time he has been able to call in two weeks. He can't believe that Horatio banned him from visiting, especially because he realizes just how much Ryan looks forward to seeing him. Time off is due to him, and he knows he can always pull rank to get it, but with Horatio's refusal to let him see Ryan, he hasn't attempted it yet. He's clinging to some hope that either Horatio will repeal the ban or that Horatio will come to his senses. Or that Ryan will somehow find the initiative to save himself while Eric's hands are tied.

Meanwhile, the phone is heavy in his hand. Cell phones are only supposed to weigh a few ounces, but obviously his has become a sponge and soaked up all the negativity stemming from his mind. The number is unfamiliar, and he misdials twice.

Paula answers the phone. She sounds almost too cheerful to work in a mental hospital, but he supposes not everyone can be Nurse Ratched.

He asks to speak to Ryan.

"I'm sorry, he's in treatment right now." She coughs suddenly, a harsh sound that grates on his ears.

"When can I call back to talk to him?" He labels her as an airhead. Another obstacle in his path to keeping in touch with Ryan. She can go kiss the doctor's ass with Horatio.

"I'm sorry. You can't. He's been acting up again, and we need him to calm down in case something you say sets him off." She coughs again, apologizing by saying she needs to get some lozenges.

Eric hangs up. What else is he supposed to do? He has no time or ability to visit. He attempts to call back several times throughout the day, even sneaking into the men's restroom when one of his tests is running. Every time, he hangs up when either Paula or a male attendant answers the phone.

Eventually, he gives up and returns to work.

oOo

**Friday August 26, 2011**

Unbeknownst to Eric, his mother, Carmen Delko, has successfully traded visits with Walter, who no longer can stomach his friend in the condition he repeatedly appears in. She drives carefully to the facility. Her first impression is that Eric is right; the building appears very prison-like in stature. Her second impression, of the waiting room for visitors, is that they don't like people visiting since the entire room is cold and sterile and the chairs are too hard for anyone's butt. Even the plants are atrocious and garish. Especially the one giant tree-thing standing in front of what could be a door.

The doctor, the lady Eric spent two hours complaining about the last time he'd been able to visit, leads her to the visiting cell. The plexi-glass is smudged where a hand has repeatedly been held up, waiting for someone to break the window and rescue him. She hopes it isn't Ryan.

At a glance from an attendant standing over her, she sits in another hard chair, waiting patiently for her visit to officially begin. Then, the door opens and Ryan is led in.

Carmen has to keep herself from gasping at the condition of his face and body. The poor boy looks like he's been tortured, and he is severely underweight. The last time she'd seen him, a couple of weeks before his commitment, he'd been at a steady weight and it hadn't looked like someone tried to rip his face off. She thanks God that her husband was unable to travel with her as she isn't so sure he wouldn't do something rash.

It does not surprise her that her family took to the young man shortly after meeting him. They had heard many stories from Eric about his incompetence, but shortly after they decided to hate him on Eric's behalf, her son had admitted Ryan was a better person than he gave him credit for.

At the Christmas dinner, Ryan had confided in her that he didn't believe in God anymore. Not since the attack. She had the distinct feeling then that she was one of the few he trusted with the information that he'd been raped.

She raises her hands, placing them against the glass. Her heart stutters when, at first, Ryan places his hand in the smudged spot and then presses his hands to the glass like hers. She hums a soft tune that Ryan leans forward as if to catch.

"Dear Lord, please listen," she speaks in a soft whisper. "Hear the cry of this soul and release him from his pain. Let him go, Lord. He has suffered enough. Lord, listen and deliver. Please help him."

Together, they sit back. She has tears in her eyes, but feels much relieved. God will help, she trusts. Ryan has tears in his eyes too, and he mouths "Thank you" before the attendant behind him grabs his shoulder and yanks him upright.

"Visit's over," the man behind her says. The door opens, and Ryan is led past her. He stops, refusing to budge even when he is pushed.

"Do you have a picture of Eric?"

The question should surprise her. Might have surprised her, but she's the mother of Eric Delko. She is always prepared. Except when she had to tell her son that he wasn't biologically related to his father, but that is a story that has nothing to do with Ryan.

She digs in her pocket—her purse is being held behind the desk at this moment—and pulls out a recent photograph of Eric. It was the first picture her oldest daughter took with her newest camera and it is beautiful. Ryan holds it carefully. If it surprises him that it's much thicker and stiffer than a normal picture, he doesn't let on. He also doesn't let the men take it from him.

A quick peck on the cheek and then Ryan is swept away from her. She stands in the room a moment longer, trying not to cry. "God, please help him."

oOo

**Tuesday August 30, 2011**

Carmen is on her way to work when she is stopped by her son's boss. Lieutenant Horatio Caine does not look happy, but he doesn't seem mad either.

"I know you visited Ryan a few days ago," the Lieutenant says, leaning against the gate, sunglasses held loosely at his side. "Thank you."

"For?" She looks him up and down. If he's trying to be intimidating, he's failing. He is tired-looking and his suit is wrinkled.

"Ryan saved his medication for three weeks. Last night he swallowed the entire stash. The staff wouldn't have found him in time if he hadn't used a photograph to jimmy the lock on his door."

"So, why thank me?"

"It was a picture of Eric. You gave him a picture stuck to a card. How else could he have escaped?"

"Eric doesn't know I gave him it."

"How did you know?" Horatio straightens. "How did you know to give him a picture on a card? How did you know to carry it with you? How did you know to visit?"

"That's a lot of 'how did you knows,'" Carmen tries to laugh, but her breath, stolen by the news that Ryan attempted suicide, hasn't returned. "I'm a mother. I have intuition."

Horatio doesn't seem to buy her explanation, but he lets it go. "All the same, thanks." He turns to leave, sunglasses back on his face. Eric had told her how he'd given him the very first pair.

"Oh, Lieutenant Caine?" Horatio turns back to her. "Don't tell Eric. It'll only make him feel guilty for not…rescuing Ryan."

"Understood. But, Eric doesn't have to feel guilty. He's helped Ryan a lot already."

Carmen smiles, but it doesn't last. "He's trying to save someone no one else wants to save." She leaves Horatio staring after her.

oOo

**Friday September 9, 2011**

Eric tries calling again. The attendant isn't James, and she does not see the need to get James. However, she fetches Ryan for him. While she's gone, he realizes that it's Airhead Paula.

"Hello?" Ryan's voice shakes in the silence of the line. "Eric?" He sounds like he's about ready to cry.

"Hey," he finally responds, feeling an odd pricking sensation in his eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to visit you. I promise I'll make it in next week."

"Don't," Ryan snaps. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I'm still working," Eric snaps back. He is just too tired to tread carefully. "I have to. Horatio keeps me really busy."

"Horatio," Ryan snorts. "Horatio can suck his own dick for a day or two. You and I won't always be here."

Eric's mind, always faster than his mouth, connects the words and comes up with another mental breakdown for his friend. "What does that mean?" He can't help the falling sensation in his stomach or the roaring in his ears. It's not too late. Please, God, it's not too late. He doesn't notice he's hyperventilating until Ryan's harsh whispers break through the haze surrounding his senses.

"Breathe, goddamn it. If I have to breathe, so do you. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Deep breaths." Ryan is panicking, Eric realizes. He's also trying to sound as normal as possible so that the phone call won't be cut short.

"I'm breathing," he manages, to which Ryan sighs. "Now, what do you mean we won't always be here?"

"Never mind. It's my meds; they make me crazy sometimes. Especially since I took too many of them—damn it!"

"You tried to commit suicide?" Too late, Eric realizes that he sounds accusatory. Well, he has that right. He's done everything in his power to keep Ryan alive—he tries to ignore the voice in the back of his mind that tells him otherwise. "I'm sorry. I'll really try to visit soon."

"I have to go, my three minutes are up." Ryan hangs up, leaving Eric with the sinking feeling again. What _is_ he supposed to do? Why does he feel like his continued inaction is the reason Ryan wants to die?

oOo

**Tuesday September 20, 2011**

Natalia's car breaks down fifty feet from the Crime Lab. Eric uses one of his old contacts to get her a reduced fee for towing to the shop. And then he gives her a ride to the facility. Paula at the front desk looks ashamed when she turns them away, saying Ryan isn't up for visitors today.

"You haven't let us in for weeks," Natalia says, aware that Dr. Rosen is hiding in the office behind the secretary, listening to every word. "I'd think that's having more of a detrimental effect on Ryan than our visits."

"Actually," Paula coughs—Horatio once confided that was her way of saying someone was pulling her strings—"you make him rowdy, and he upsets the other patients."

Dr. Rosen steps out of the room, hair tied up in a stiff ponytail, the end curling slightly in the humid air. Her lap coat is too bright, and Natalia thinks she must soak it in bleach every night for it to look like that. Eric nudges her forward, like she's the spokesperson for a committee.

"Nice of you to show up," she says harshly, relishing in the wince that crosses Dr. Rosen's face. "Now you just have to sign a piece of paper that lets us in. It is my scheduled visit time."

"Ryan is unable to cooperate with our rules, and as such, his visitation privileges have been revoked for the time being." She reaches out to hide the box of visitor's badges Paula nudges from behind a stack of files. "Your previous visits have all coincided with episodes from Ryan, and we have no choice but to ban both of you from being on the premises. If either of you are found on the premises, you will be escorted off by security officers."

"Do you even care about your patients?" Eric throws out as he steps back from the desk, Natalia stepping back with him. He waves his hand around the empty waiting room. "There's no one waiting to visit anyone. In fact, we're the only ones visiting."

"How many?" Natalia demands, receiving another wince from the doctor. "How many have you isolated?"

"Sir, ma'am, you'll need to leave right now," a middle-aged man, with a thin mustache and a dark blue security uniform, says as he comes to a parade rest next to them, hand on his Taser.

"We're leaving," Eric says, "but know this: we will return for Ryan."

They quickstep in time, feet clacking against the cold marble floor, chased out to the burning pavement by the disappointment each feels as the utter failure of their visit sweeps over them.

"Is it any wonder he's so messed up now?" Eric asks her as they climb into his car. She knows he doesn't want a response—he rarely offers any information about his visits with Ryan while she overanalyzes all the details she can get—but she nods anyway, mouth opening to offer, "Is it our fault, too?"

oOo


	6. Chapter Five

_**Disclaimer is on the Prologue.**_

oOo

**Chapter Five:**

**Friday September 23, 2011**

The phone is answered on the third ring. The man who answers the phone sounds sullen, as if Eric has interrupted his afternoon magazine break.

"I need to speak with Ryan Wolfe." Clear demands. That's the only advice he can give himself. Whether they meet those demands depends on how fast he can mobilize a team of lawyers for a malpractice suit.

It's a ridiculous dream, but it's all he can do to soothe his soul while Ryan sits in the prison made by medication and fear.

"He's not available."

"He's never available. Now, put him on."

The man, Daniel Morris, he thinks, remembering an article on the spectacular new nurse hired at Highland Park Pavilion Jackson, refuses to yield, demanding that Eric cease all communication with the patient at once. They break into an all-out screaming match. Natalia, sitting in the corner of the break room with a cup of yogurt, smiles when Eric cusses at Daniel's bullheadedness. She gives him a thumbs up and a "Go get 'em, tiger." Daniel calls Dr. Rosen.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Delko, but you have a negative influence on our patient." Her calm tone further infuriates Eric until he can barely talk.

Natalia plucks the phone from his hand. "I suggest you grow a brain and let Ryan see my client otherwise you will have a lawsuit on your hands. Bad publicity." She hands the phone back to Eric. The only sound he hears from the other end is the disconnection of the line.

"Bitch hung up," he informs Natalia.

"Can we persecute them? Really?"

He doesn't have the heart to lie to her. "Probably not. Doesn't mean I'm not going to at least try. He deserves our best."

"Even if our best have given up on him." He stares at her, hoping she isn't one of the 'best.' She stares back at him, and he sees the fear reflected in her eyes. Who are they kidding? They'll never be able to rescue Ryan in time. They might as well give up.

oOo

**Friday October 14, 2011**

It worries Eric when no one answers his calls. He's certain that he has enough evidence to bring the malpractice suit against Dr. Rosen. Before he can start his foray into the land of lawyers and insurance companies, Walter catches him and tells him they have a case.

He lets Walter drive because he is still trying to think of a way to file the suit and rescue Ryan with as few mistakes as he possibly can. Mechanically, without really being aware, Eric steps out of the Hummer when they reach their destination. Instead of grabbing his kit like Walter, Eric stares at the house, staring through it as if he can see Ryan in his tiny room, James looming over him.

"Hey, man." Walter smacks his hands together, startling Eric out of his thoughts. "You okay?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not ever going to be okay, and neither is Ryan."

"He's been in that institute for, what, six months? He's never gonna get it together. Maybe it's time to let him go." Walter doesn't get a chance to say anything else because next thing he and Eric know, he's on the ground, blood gushing from his nose, Eric, fist still raised, standing over him.

"I'm never going to let him go."

oOo

**Thursday October 20, 2011**

Calleigh visits her father on his birthday, watching as he moves slowly through his apartment, gathering his wallet, keys, and the small wrapped box she'd handed him when he opened the door.

The drive—in her car—to the restaurant is quiet. Duke doesn't say anything, and she finds her words stick in her throat.

The reservation works well, and within an hour they are seated, with menus. She wants to order a white wine to complement her salmon dish, but knows that she cannot tempt her father so cruelly.

He winks before ordering a thick steak, something her mother would have warned him against when they were still married. Calleigh doesn't say anything, ordering lemon water and thinking of Speedle, something she's tried to convince herself she hasn't done every day. Ryan isn't like Speed. For one, he's not dead. For another, she's not so sure she ever really got to know him, like she knew her friend.

"He visited me, you know," Duke finally says, poking at roll he'd picked from a side basket. "In rehab, and again when I was trying to get back on my feet."

She tries not to stare. Ryan was usually so callous toward wrongdoers—he hadn't always been that way, but people do change.

"Lambchop," Duke abandons the roll to grab her hand. "You got me through the process, but Ryan Wolfe got me through the first six months of sobriety. I know you don't like visiting him, but you've gotta try for your old man, to repay the loan of kindness he shared with me."

Tears well up, and she shakes her head, remembering the way Ryan looked, the way he'd stared at her with so much accusation, as if she'd been the one to attack him.

"Please?" Duke tries, halfheartedly stabbing his steak and watching the pink juice dribbling from the slashes.

She shakes her head again and signals the waiter.

She leaves her father sitting at the table with a giant steak he doesn't plan on eating and her pathetic little present—a crescent shaped keychain he'd given her for high school graduation. Ryan Wolfe claims another victim, she thought, too far on her way home to turn around for her father, and too proud to do so anyway.

oOo

**Friday October 28, 2011**

Paula fetches Ryan again. It disturbs Eric that he can only talk to Ryan on the days that James either isn't working or is busy with another patient.

When Ryan comes on the line, he is hysterical. Eric can't tell if he's laughing or crying. Everything he says is unintelligible and punctuated with noises that sound increasingly like sobs.

Paula takes the phone from him and tells Eric he'll have to call back later.

It is only just before Paula hangs up that he understands what Ryan was saying. He calls back, but it's busy. He keeps trying, but no one answers.

When his mother returns from visiting Ani, who is sick with a cold, she makes him leave the phone and sit at the table where he can't eat.

"Mamá," he says when she feels his forehead for a temperature, "what would you do if your best friend told you she was going to kill herself?"

Papí looks up from his food. "You saved him once, what did you do?"

"Tell someone, talk to him," Mamá says.

Eric doesn't ask how they knew he was thinking about Ryan. "I think I'm the only one he trusts. And I'm not entirely sure that's what he was saying. He was kinda hysterical."

Papí shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. He needs you as his friend. You do everything in your power to find out what is wrong and fix it. If you have problems, wouldn't he do the same for you?"

After supper, Papí takes the phone to his study. He stays in the room with the door shut for nearly thirty minutes. By that time, Eric has helped his mother clean up the supper dishes and put the leftovers in the fridge. Every minute he expects her to tell him that God will provide the answer, but she remains silent, mouth pressed in a hard line.

When Papí returns, he has an edge of excitement to him. "I was able to convince the doctor to let you visit once they've made some adjustments to Ryan's medication and treatment. I'm sorry that it's in December, but that gives you plenty of time to work on getting him out."

"Thank you, Papí," Eric hasn't hugged his father since he was a little boy, but it feels natural to wrap his arms around the one person who was able to break through the barrier the facility has surrounded Ryan with.

"Well," Mamá claps her hands. "Well, let's have a family game night. We'll be able to impress Ryan with our Scrabble skills."

For the first time in weeks, Eric's smile doesn't feel forced and his sides hurt from laughing. For the first time in weeks, his family doesn't worry about him so much. But, when everyone's gone home, Eric sits on his front steps and watches the moon, thinking of Ryan.

oOo

**Sunday November 20, 2011**

Walter attempts to write his resignation letter four times before Travers stops by with a six pack and a movie about some apocalypse of something-or-other.

Shortly after they start, each downing a beer and a half, Benton shows up with another six pack and another apocalyptic flick. They get completely smashed, and Travers falls asleep leaning on Walter while Benton attempts to edit the resignation letter.

Eventually, after Benton tells him to add zombies to his list of reasons why, citing with severely slurred, yet grammatically correct language, that Wolfe is now zombie-like and has convinced Delko and Boa Vista to become zombie-offshoots, Walter tells him to sleep it off, and the aspirin is in the bathroom. He leaves a trashcan by the couch, and leans Travers against Benton.

His room is too cold and too dark and too _something_ for him to sleep, so he revises his letter again, finally deciding that Wolfe isn't as great of a challenge as Delko, and it's Delko that makes work uncomfortable. After all, Horatio forgave him for his inability to stomach the dilapidation of his closest friend.

He writes one more letter, four words, _I am sorry, Ryan_, and finally closes his eyes.

He doesn't sleep.

oOo

**Thursday November 24, 2011**

Horatio spends Turkey Day in Ryan's room at the mental hospital. He had to beg Dr. Rosen to let him in, but she thinks the benefits of having a familiar face with Ryan during a family holiday will benefit the young man. He attempts to get Ryan to eat several times, but each time, Ryan refuses to open his mouth. He is stubborn.

"Mr. Wolfe," Horatio tries one last time, "I know you are mad at me, but you need to eat to get better."

"That's a joke," Ryan sits up. "I didn't ask for you to put me here. I didn't ask you to stay with me. I just want to be alone."

"You and I both know that's a lie."

Ryan jumps to his feet. "It's not a lie. I want you out! Get out!" He grabs the plate of cold turkey and throws it against the wall. Even though Horatio has faced down many cold-blooded criminals, he can't help flinching when Ryan begins punching the wall.

James and another attendant run in and restrain the hysterical young man. Horatio watches for a few moments before cleaning the mess Ryan made. He leaves without looking back, but he can hear the broken sobs of his friend. How is he supposed to deal with the fact that he can't help Ryan?

He knows the real reason for the hunger strike. Dr. Rosen thinks it's because his medications keep changing, but really it's because Eric hasn't been in to see him in months. Horatio has tried to get Dr. Rosen to remove the restraining order against Eric, but she refuses to budge.

If only he hadn't been so quick to dismiss his CSI's concerns. Seems Eric knew what was what before everyone else did. It doesn't help that Calleigh won't visit, Walter has stopped, Natalia never was given much of a chance—he doesn't see her much except when she gives him test results—and Eric has been banned from visiting.

Horatio and Eric are the only two still emotionally invested in Ryan's well-being within the walls of Highland Park Pavilion Jackson. He knows Ryan thinks only Eric cares, and that's what kills him inside. To get better, he decides, Ryan needs to get worse.

oOo

**Friday November 25, 2011**

Every day, Eric calls until he gets the idea that maybe they are screening his calls based on his number. He holds off on contacting them for two weeks—he barely makes it through; his instinct to protect Ryan is constantly in overdrive—and then he calls from his mother's phone so that the hospital—James—won't recognize the number and deny him the ability to speak to Ryan.

"Hello, Highland Park Pavilion Jackson mental health facility, how may I help you?"

"Paula? It's Eric. Do you think I can talk to Ryan today?"

"He's with James right now," Paula says. He can hear the chair squeak as she pivots to look at something. "Oh, no, wait. He's coming in here. I take it you don't want him to know it's you calling?" She gasps softly and Eric can hear the rumble of James's voice as he asks her who's calling.

"Just tell Ryan I'll visit him in three weeks," Eric prays that James can't overhear him on the phone.

"Yes, sir, I'll let her know," the girl's got guts if James is really standing over her. He'll have to send flowers or a fruit basket. If Ryan were on the outside, he knows he'd have already sent them. One of his best attributes was kissing ass.

"Thank you."

The words aren't for her alone, but he doesn't know if she'll pass the message along. He can hope, though.

oOo


	7. Chapter Six and Epilogue

_**Disclaimer is on the Prologue.**_

oOo

**Chapter Six:**

**Friday December 16, 2011**

Eric sits in the chair opposite from Ryan, glad that the plexi-glass wall has been removed. His friend does not look well at all. He is too thin, and he shakes constantly. He stares at a spot on the table, but Eric knows he doesn't see it.

"I want to see the sunset," Ryan mumbles. "Please?" For a brief moment he glances up, catching Eric's gaze. His eyes are dead. They don't shine and they don't sparkle. Eric feels a surge of guilt—did he do this by not visiting? By not getting him out?

"I think I can manage that," Eric glances up at James, willing him to go away. James glares back at him. And then Paula bursts in, demanding that James come help with another patient who is refusing to cooperate.

Daniel, the other attendant, nods at James, saying silently that he has the visit under control. So James leaves.

Eric waits all of three seconds before punching Daniel until he loses consciousness. Then he helps Ryan stand up. He knows that Ryan has lost a lot of weight, but until he practically lifts him out of his chair with a strong grip, he doesn't realize just how severe it is.

Ryan can't stand and leans on Eric for complete support. Bloody knuckles and bitten fingernails. They make quite a pair, limping down the hallway, trying to look as if they belong. Amazingly, they don't encounter anyone until they get to the front doors. Paula winks at them from her post at the front desk. She'll lose her job, and Eric will be cited for an assault charge, but he couldn't be happier. Ryan is finally going to be free.

The first steps into the parking lot make Ryan shiver. His clothes are so thin—he is so thin—that the slight breeze goes right through him. Eric shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over him, pulling it closed when Ryan makes no move to hold it. He seems to be in a state of shock.

"Are you okay?"

Ryan turns to him, and the lack of expression on his face, in his eyes, scares Eric. "He was raping me." They stop moving, not so much because they're at the Hummer, but because Eric can't make his feet work. He can't make his mouth work either. Ryan begins sobbing loudly, but there are no tears on his face.

"I don't know what to do," Eric whispers, moving closer so that he can wrap his arms around Ryan's shaking form. "Help me understand."

"I just need to get away," Ryan turns slowly to look at the facility. Eric watches him, scared that the energy used to get him out is disappearing. What if Ryan dies?

"Don't die," he whispers, helping his friend into the passenger seat. Ryan laughs quietly, but he doesn't respond. "Please don't die."

"The sunset?" Ryan reminds him as they head towards the beach. Eric nods before looking at him and realizing that he is almost asleep.

"Yeah," he says, clearing his throat when his voice sticks on that one syllable. At a stoplight he starts a text to Horatio about meeting them there. Before he can send it, the light turns green. At the next light, he tries calling Horatio, but Ryan notices what he's doing.

"Please don't." The effort it takes for him to sit up and open his eyes frightens Eric.

"I need to. He needs to know."

"He put me there. Don't call him." Ryan starts shaking again, teeth chattering. Eric turns up the heat, directing the vents at his friend, but nothing helps. He is certain that Ryan is dying.

They sit on the beach, on the sand. Ryan shivers. He hasn't really stopped despite the heat in the Hummer and the warmth of Eric's jacket. "Hold on," Eric goes back to the Hummer and gets a blanket he keeps for emergencies from under the rear seats. He wraps it around Ryan and himself, trying to share his body heat.

Ryan presses against him

"It's been a year." His voice is almost too soft to hear despite his head being on Eric's shoulder. "Since he first raped me."

"You don't have to talk about it," Eric murmurs. It's not that he's uncomfortable discussing what's happened to Ryan, it's that he notices that Ryan's strength is disappearing. He's dying. And there is nothing Eric can do to stop him.

"I want to," Ryan adjusts his head so that he can watch the sun set over the edge of the blanket without losing any of the warmth accumulating within. "I need someone to know, someone to understand what I went through."

And Eric listens as Ryan tells him about how the man had drugged him at a bar and took him home. Eric interrupts then, asking for clarification, "That's why you moved?" Ryan nods, hair tickling Eric's chin as it runs over his stubble.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

"You weren't ready. I'm sorry I didn't get you out sooner."

They lapse into silence, watching the sun sink behind the buildings. Light breaks through the cracks between the structures, falling onto the resting men.

Ryan shifts again, presses deeper into Eric's side. He exhales softly.

"I couldn't make the promise earlier," Ryan's breath ghosts over his cheek. "I'm sorry."

Tears sting Eric's eyes as he realizes what's happening. "Don't. Please don't. I'll get help. I'll make sure everything's okay."

"You already have. I feel like I'm finally safe." Eric looks down, watching the light as it brushes over Ryan's upturned face, filling the scars gouged from his skin, blending the bruises covering his jaw into his faint beard, softening the sharp edges of his features.

He wants to take a picture, because this is how he wants to remember Ryan—as a strong, courageous friend who beat the odds. Not as the broken man too afraid to fight for himself. His phone chirps in his pocket. An incoming call from Horatio.

He presses ignore. Opens the phone to camera. Focuses on the light on Ryan's face. Takes a picture. Ryan looks up at the flash, blinks slowly, smiles softly.

"Don't forget to remember me," he says, exhaling and closing his eyes. He sets his head back on Eric's shoulder and, still smiling, dies.

The light fades away completely as Eric holds the body of his closest friend. Then the tears start falling.

oOo

**Tuesday December 20, 2011**

Natalia looks through her closet. Clothes that aren't hers, were never hers, line the shelves. Slowly, carefully, she selects a black silk shirt. She lifts it to her nose and inhales, imagining a strong scent she can't even really remember. A sob breaks from her throat and she sinks onto the floor, tears spilling down her cheeks.

She has no right, and yet she has every right. She never loved him as more than a friend or a brother when he was walking around, hanging around, but over the course of his incarceration, she'd fallen in love with him—not the old him, but the new him, the damaged soul.

Still crying, she slips off her shirt and pulls his on, buttoning it with fingers that feel clumsier than grief should be. Using one of his ties, some pretty little green affair, to tie back her hair, she stands up, heading through her house, checking and double-checking things like he would have done if he'd been standing in her apartment.

Someone knocks on her door as she grabs her purse. She knows who it should be, but her heart says it's him. Disappointment floods her when she lets Eric Delko in, eyeing his black suit and green tie.

"I see we dressed alike," he says, voice choked and thick. "I think he'd be proud to have inspired that."

"I think so, too."

He holds out his hand, "May I have the honor?"

She nods, "Only if you check to make sure I've locked the door when we leave."

"And have turned off the stove."

"And watered the plants."

"And made the bed, put away the dishes, swept the floor, cleaned the windows—"

"God," she says, laughing through her renewed tears, "how'd he ever get out the door?"

"By believing the world needed him."

"It did. It still does."

"I know."

oOo

**Epilogue:**

**January 1, 2012**

Eric stands at a lone headstone. This is his third stop today. His third toast of apple juice at a graveyard. First Marisol, then Speed, and now Ryan. His sister, his first best friend, and now his second best friend.

It's misting and foggy. Only in Miami in the middle of winter, he thinks as he raises the glass, catching some raindrops in the cup. He stares at the contents for a long moment. He couldn't have done anything to prevent Marisol's or Tim's deaths, but he knows he should have fought harder to save Ryan.

They had discussed Heaven once, when Ryan was high on some kind of medication and Eric was letting him sleep it off. Ryan didn't believe in Heaven because, as he put it, he couldn't stand to think there was a place where he wouldn't be allowed. Eric had done his best to convince him that even if Saint Peter rejected him, he'd drag him in himself.

It hadn't worked.

He's not sure Ryan can go to a place he didn't believe in. He's not sure he believes in Heaven if Ryan isn't there. Mamá made sure to tell him before he left her house this morning that Ryan had made it to Heaven, that God wouldn't dare deny such a sweet soul, but that's still hardly any comfort for him.

He thinks of the young woman who arrived a week after Ryan's funeral, hands shaking, palms sweating, ready to replace another friend. Eric tried to follow the examples of the others who welcomed her heartily, but he knows, after the chilly reception he gave Ryan, it wouldn't feel right to allow another person such easy access to his emotions. It took Ryan two years before Eric didn't hate him, and it took another two years for Eric to realize he was his friend. Ryan must have been so strong to withstand the hate directed at him.

"Things aren't the same anymore," he sighs, lowering himself to the damp ground. Ryan's decomposing body is beneath the place where his feet rest. It's easier that way…to pretend that he's facing his friend. "Walter has a date tonight with the new CSI girl. Molly something-or-other. You would like her. She's got OCD like you." The words tumble from his mouth. No one is near to hear him, so he indulges himself, imagining Ryan sitting across a small table, apple juice glass raised in mock toast.

"I gave you grief for it, didn't I?" A small smile, a brief chuckle. "By the way, Calleigh and I are back together. I guess sex trumps brotherly love any day. You knew, though. You knew even when we didn't. Thanks for not ratting us out."

Eric wonders, again, how Ryan was able to put up with him. How was he so forgiving? The apple juice glows amber in the faux crystal goblet Ryan had given Eric for the last New Year. A small sip nearly makes him choke. It tastes like ashes.

"You know, Natalia has worn one of your shirts every day since you died. I think she's in love with you, man." He tries to chuckle, but instead the sound he releases sounds suspiciously like a sob. "You changed a lot of lives for the better. I'm sorry we didn't tell you when you were alive, but you made things better. Especially for me." He drinks the apple juice, swallowing hard when the liquid leaves a sour taste in his mouth. "Ryan," he tilts his head to the sky, opening his mouth and savoring the syllables. "I'll miss you, my friend."

_One by one_

_I suffer you badly_

_One by one_

_You're all I don't need_

_And life on the road_

_Makes you feel old_

_Remember the time_

_When friends were around_

_When friends were around_

_When we were all friends_

_And is this the way to be?_

_And is this the way to be?_

_One by one_

_One by one_

~The End ~

oOo

_**A/N: The mental institution is real, but the staff and the layout has been completely fabricated to fit the needs of the story. I apologize to anyone who is or may be associated with Highland Park Pavilion Jackson.**_

_**I realize that I did not include any scenes of Frank although he was mentioned to have visited Ryan. I feel he stopped soonest because he realized he couldn't ask the questions Ryan needed to hear, and so was actually the first to give up (even though he never truly gave up) and was the basis for Horatio forgiving the others their inability to continue visiting Ryan. Horatio's perception of Natalia is obviously wrong, but I never quite got the feel that he fully trusted her aside from a handful of times throughout her career as a CSI.**_

_**I do not feel I write an adequate portrayal of Alexx, so she was never shown to visit although, in a perfect story, which would be so much longer, and maybe better, she would definitely feature. If I do rewrite it again, I will definitely add Frank and Alexx.**_

_**The importance of the song One by One is that I wrote most of the story (i.e. Ryan's initial sections and most if not all of Eric's sections) to that song. I added the others later, and I think Walter wasn't even included at first since it was supposed to take place during Season Seven. It was a very conscious decision to never show Ryan's POV after the Prologue, because I didn't want the story to focus on him so much as his effect on others, especially Eric.**_

_**Thank you for reading this story and for any comments, favorites, and alerts you've invested in it. It is greatly appreciated.**_

_**- Scaredbeingsinthedark aka WalkingDictionary**_


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